news photo from google
Dream, all you crones
and creaky-jointed crooners.
Where's the kind of hope
we had when we
were young?
Lay your tired head
upon your pillow
for we have to finish
what we have
begun.
Dust off those castles in the air
we once envisaged.
Polish your granny glasses,
lace up your high-top boots.
To the eastern sea
let's take our pails and shovels.
To the polls
let's take our trust
and faith and roots.
When it is the hardest
to have hope,
we still
must have it,
though it's difficult
with so much
we could grieve.
Dream me a dream
and waltz me round
the kitchen.
Tell me we'll be okay
and I'll believe.
Well, kids, believe it or not, my shiny optimism has taken a big hit, with the devastation of the eastern seaboard. When I watched An Inconvenient Truth years ago, and saw the shores of New York underwater, it was terrifying. It was even more terrifying when it was not a projection but a reality, on my tv screen.
There is so much to be done and the System, in the stranglehold of the multinationals, just cant move fast enough to effect significant change. Especially in a country with two nearly equal political parties. We could teeter totter back and forth every four years, one party making some progress, then the other party tossing that out and starting over.
It takes a lot to discourage me but tonight I am discouraged.
Tomorrow will dawn regardless. Good luck to us all, on Planet Earth.
